


Grey Days

by orphan_account



Category: Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Implied Mac/Veronica, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, It's not explicitly stated but it's there, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Suicide, Panic Attacks, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 14:21:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16327637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: As soon as she turned off her lamp the sea would become stormy and the lifeboat, packed with dozens of her classmates, would start to be thrown about, tossed carelessly from wave to wave. She would squeeze her eyes shut, cling onto whatever she could find (a minuscule amount of hope, a few kind words, a smile flashed at her in the hallway) and try not to be sucked into the darkness. She’d lay there night after night, her breathing heavy and her cheeks and eyes stinging with tears, utterly exhausted and drained, and hope that things would start to look up, that at some point they’d reach land and she could stand tall again.Heather McNamara is struggling.





	Grey Days

Heather always felt worse at night.

As soon as she turned off her lamp the sea would become stormy and the lifeboat, packed with dozens of her classmates, would start to be thrown about, tossed carelessly from wave to wave. She would squeeze her eyes shut, cling onto whatever she could find (a minuscule amount of hope, a few kind words, a smile flashed at her in the hallway) and try not to be sucked into the darkness. She’d lay there night after night, her breathing heavy and her cheeks and eyes stinging with tears, utterly exhausted and drained, and hope that things would start to look up, that at some point they’d reach land and she could stand tall again.

And when her mom knocked on her door in the morning, she’d push past the tiredness and get up. She’d spend as much time in her room as she could, avoiding her parents’ well meaning but unwanted questions, and when the time came to leave she’d plaster on a fake smile and bid her parents a cheery goodbye as she rushed out to catch the school bus. She’d push to the back and slump against the window, hunch her shoulders to make herself look small, and let her mind drift as the bus moved. She’d ignore the pain in her stomach as they got closer and closer to the school, swallow the lump in her throat when she saw Duke climbing out of her jeep, and join her and Veronica on the front steps of the school.

The storms were almost bearable at school. The lifeboat was more crowded, but the water was less rocky. It was easier to lose herself at school, be sucked into the idle gossip of Heather Duke or watch Veronica scribble in her diary. There was always something to do, always something going on. But there were reminders of Heather, Kurt and Ram everywhere and every so often a boom of thunder would rumble in Heather’s head and the heavens would open, the waves growing threatening, and she’d have to run away. Away from Heather’s locker, or the water fountain that Kurt used to stop at during every passing period, away from the football field or the cafeteria, towards the bathroom where she’d stay until the sobs stopped and she could breathe properly again.

And if Duke or Veronica noticed how she’d return to them with no makeup and a blotchy face, they didn’t say anything. Heather didn’t know if that was a good or a bad thing.

She’d return from school and sit quietly at the breakfast bar to do her homework, listening to her mom’s rants about work, and then she’d return to her room and try anything to distract herself. She’d quit cheer after Heather’s death, unable to bring herself to keep going when her number one supporter was gone, and threw herself into her studies, trying to claw her grades back from the abyss they had fallen into recently. For the amount of work she was putting in, there was little improvement but it didn’t matter. Anything was better than nothing.

It had been a particularly bad day when Veronica had found her in the bathroom that afternoon after being completely humiliated by Duke on live TV. It was something that she had been thinking about for a while, just something that she could never find the courage to do. Duke had given that courage to her through her mean words, but Heather was grateful to Veronica for snatching it and crushing it into dust with the heel of her boots, similar to the pills scattered across the tiles.

It felt good for Heather to have someone to cry to, especially someone that she had been acting alright around. She hugged Veronica tighter than she’d ever hugged anyone before and cried until she felt empty. A good sort of empty; no guilt or fear or anxiety.

And that night when things started to get stormy again, Heather knew exactly what to do.

“Heather?” Veronica’s voice was laced with sleep. “Are you alright?”

“I miss Heather,” Mac said simply, wiping at the tears on her cheeks. “I miss her so much that it hurts, Veronica.”

“Do you need me to come over?” There was the muffled sound of bed covers being pushed back and floorboards squeaking. “I’ll be there in ten.”

“There in ten.” Heather whispered shakily after the line went dead, heading downstairs barefoot and sitting in front of the door until she heard four soft knocks.

Things got better after Heather let Veronica in.

It was still bad, she still missed Heather and Kurt and Ram, but the hurt seemed to soften when Veronica was there. They became inseparable, leaning on each other for support. After JD’s death there would be days where both of them would just lie on Heather’s bed, clinging to each other. There were days when they would both skip school in favour of getting ice cream or going shopping or days when they’d curl up on Veronica’s sofa with bowls of popcorn and blankets wrapped around them whilst watching cheesy films. Veronica persuaded Heather to start keeping a diary and she did, reading over her entries on the nights that she was alone, reminding herself of the good in the world.

It was Veronica’s suggestion for Heather to start therapy. She’d been forced into it by her parents, she said, and although she had hated it at first, it was doing her a world of good. So Heather did, and she benefited. Her therapist was able to help her in ways that Veronica couldn’t and although the bad days didn’t get better, they became further and further apart. She took medication that she was prescribed, and took her diary with her to her sessions and read entries she felt comfortable sharing out loud.

“It’s nice to finally feel okay.” Heather said one night during the credits of The Princess Bride, a small smile on her face.

“It is,” Veronica agreed. “Heather would be so proud of you, Mac, you know that?” She said, wrapping an arm around Heather’s shoulders. “She’d love the person you’ve become.”

“I love the person I’ve become, too,” Heather replied, leaning heavily against Veronica. “But I wouldn’t be that person without you.”

**Author's Note:**

> [My tumblr](https://deadwardkaspbrak.tumblr.com/)   
> 


End file.
